


Sisyphus

by stelthykat



Category: Z Nation (TV)
Genre: Gen, Graphic Description, Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Injury, Major Violence, Medical Procedures, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, spoilers for seasons 1 & 2
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-05
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-05-24 22:09:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6168508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stelthykat/pseuds/stelthykat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The gods had condemned Sisyphus to ceaselessly rolling a rock to the top of a mountain, whence the stone would fall back of its own weight. They had thought with some reason that there is no more dreadful punishment than futile and hopeless labor."</p><p>The continuation from the Season 2 finale. The group is in chaos, the Mission is compromised, 10K struggles with recovery as Murphy leads the way with his "friends". As they struggle to regroup and devise an alternative plan two questions come to mind: </p><p>What is Zona?  </p><p>And what the hell is wrong with 10K? </p><p>Updates weekly on Sunday's</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Z Nation or anything affiliated with it. I will only claim my OC's that will die for plot sake. I make no money off of this. I also have no idea how Submarines work, so please just "go with the flow" because I am clueless.
> 
> * A note on the title: The myth of Sisyphus is located here: http://www.britannica.com/topic/Sisyphus. I suggest reading in many different translations it as I love mythology and have based this work off of this quote: "The gods had condemned Sisyphus to ceaselessly rolling a rock to the top of a mountain, whence the stone would fall back of its own weight. They had thought with some reason that there is no more dreadful punishment than futile and hopeless labor." (From: https://www.nyu.edu/classes/keefer/hell/camus.html)

The first thing that registered was that he had been thrown back by a force incomparable to anything else. The next thing that registered in his brain was how cold the world was quickly becoming. His throat tasted like a mixture of dirt and something unidentifiable. His stomach felt wet, warm when the rest of him felt cold. It wasn’t until he lifted a shaky hand to his abdomen that it occurred to him. 

Blood. The scent tainting the air, the copper penny taste on his tongue and throat, the warmth radiating from his stomach. He’d been shot. Probably by one of the M16’s that those idiots were handling. 

‘Really,’ he thought, ‘Give a monkey a gun and he’ll spray the room with so much shot it’ll be a miracle if he hits anything’. That was what Pop had said. And he was wrong. His son was writhing around on the ground with the bullet hole to prove it. 10k groaned, feeling his hand clutch uselessly at the seams of the wound with an instinctual need to put himself back together. He choked back another groan, his mind whirling past thoughts of how Mom could sew anything back together. But they weren’t here, he was alone….

“Kid?!” 

“10k?!” 

He felt the voices before he heard them. An odd rumbling that echoed around him like thunder in the summer. He threw his eyes wildly around him, gathering not much but a blur of faces followed by chaos. Normally it’d be enough for him to stagger up and get ready to fight or flee, but now…. 

He was just so damn tired; the sort of tired that leaves you unable to give a shit about the rest of the world, or y’know, lack thereof. 

“C’mon kid, we gotta get you up, gotta stop this bleeding.” He felt a warm and withered hand fall on his. Felt the calloused fingers guiding his palm to press down on the wound, a half assed attempt to seal it. He felt another groan leave his throat; every ounce of pressure on the wound blossomed into thousands of needles stabbing into him. He gasped out an unintelligible protest, his eyes darkening as another set of younger, calloused hands prodded at him and pulled at his uncoordinated limbs.  
“10k, you’ve gotta get up.” The voice sounded less worried than the first, it sounded younger too, less weary. “We can’t do anything for you while you’re down here. You gotta get up! Get up or die!” 

He felt the wild parts of his brain react to that. Get up or die. Gathering his strength he flung an arm out beside him, throwing all his energy into pushing him weight on it and fighting back the urge to scream as the hands on his wound pressed even harder. 

“C’mon, keep it up!” he bit the inside of his cheek, fighting the darkness and focusing on the straining muscles in his forearm. All he had to do was stagger up, get up and move where the voices wanted him too. They promised survival there. They promised care. At least he’d die doing something rather than laying down and dying like a Z. 

He felt his arm give out as he got his knees under him, thankful that there was suddenly an extra set of hands to keep him upright. ‘Where’d they come from?’ he didn’t think he could bring himself to care as the darkness enveloped even more of him. Spots of light filtered through, firing off like bullets of their own and giving him vertigo. 

“C’mon 10k.” he recognized that voice….. the tone of authoritarianism, Warren? Vasquez? He coughed and grimaced at the taste of blood and bile, feeling yet another set of hands throw their worth into pressing down and causing him agony. “We’re almost there.” He noticed then that his feet were dragging instead of walking. There was the feeling of wood sliding over his skin and the sound of water dripping like it had when it had rained over the tent. 

When he next felt the darkness receding he noticed his head was on something soft, his feet were laid out in front of him and a cloth had been pushed into his clenched hand. Doc was standing over him, his eyes betraying any sense of calm he was throwing into his voice. 10k frowned, opening his mouth to speak when he felt a cool cloth falling over his forehead. 

“We’ll get a Doctor, a real one Kid.” Doc grasped his hand, squeezing it so tight 10k felt as though it might break, “And you’ll pull through…” 

10k felt his eyes slide shut, felt Addy’s cool hands ease more cool water over the cloth. He cringed, feeling his body start to shake. He needed warmth; he needed a blanket or a coat to curl into. He didn’t need the cold cloth on his head, he needed a pike…. He needed –

“C’mon already and just pike the brat.” The words couldn’t have come from anyone other than Murphy. “I’ll be more than glad to-“ 

He needed to kill Murphy.

**

It was the alarms that woke him up. He cracked his eyes open, feeling his throat constrict as he tried to get his bearings. He felt foggy, dizzy, like something had hit him hard and knocked him unconscious. 10k tightened his arms, trying to sit up and feeling an all too familiar tug somewhere from inside. 

He’d had IV’s before. He’d had some to fight dehydration; he’d had a particularly nasty one when he’d eaten some berries and gotten ill. His Pa had driven him down the mountain to the local ER where he’d been positively filled with them. Pa had made the comment that they only went to the hospital because Mom had insisted on it. 

He ran his fingers down it, wincing as the shrill alarm went off. ‘What the heck?’ he grasped the start of the needle, pulling it out as straight as his brain could handle and staggered upwards. The interior was dark, shady, almost like he was underground. Only the slight sway all around him was like the waves on the river. 

‘A submarine?’ he plastered himself against the wall as a line of soldiers ran by. They were in US fatigues, ratty and slightly torn but there all the same. The real question was: Humans or Z’s? He looked back into the surgery, glancing around for any obvious weapons before deciding on the nearest scalpel. Picking it up he looked at the blood for a moment, his stomach throbbing as he realized it must be his. 

Hobbling unsteadily back towards the hall he watched another soldier pass. Z’s ran like birds. Their feet were never quite coordinated enough. These guys were running more like people, their steps careful and measured. Another louder blare of the alarm rang through and he felt his head throb. Putting a hand to his head he staggered out into the center of the hall, looking up and trying to find his voice. 

The others had to have put him in their care. The soldiers had to have some inkling of who he was. 

“Hey!” he grunted, gasping as the stitches throbbed and pulled, “I just woke up! I-“ he felt the air rush out of him as a passing soldier grabbed his shoulder, effectively dragging him behind. His feet were struggling to keep up, his eyes darting back and forth between them all to try and divine the reason for their rushing. Pushing the scalpel further into his grip he tried again, “I’m with the blue guy, Murphy! I was shot-“ he coughed as the fingers dug into his shoulder, pushing him ahead and shoving at him impatiently. 

It seemed like the running would never stop. When one soldier got tired of dragging him they pushed him ahead and the next took over. It was eerily in synch, too much so for anything human to be behind it. 10k felt his breath stagger in his lungs, felt the stitches pull before going taunt again. At this rate he’d probably burst open like a freshly gutted deer before he got anywhere useful. Considering the stampede he was now in he would probably be drug or trampled to death. Maybe both…. Hopefully his head would be crushed so he would be given Mercy. Looking up he saw the soldiers ahead disappear into blackness, the lights disappearing ahead. 

For a brief moment he hesitated. What was left of his gut told him that there was certain death ahead, and certain death meant becoming a Z. Mercy was not a given, not with these human-less men dragging him around. He’d probably wander about until the sub sank…. Or blew up….. could sub’s blow up? 

Gritting his teeth 10k pulled himself free, deciding in that moment to die alone. Lurching to the side and seeking asylum from the grasping soldier’s gloved hands; his hands grasped the frame of a door, his fingers perching in the seams and fighting against the tides of men that were bearing down on him. Gritting his teeth he pulled himself through the rest of the doorway and fell inside, feeling the cool metal caress his skin. . He watched the stampede go forwards, seemingly oblivious to his absence with their faces turned downwards. 

“Ah,” he felt his blood rush to his head as the voice drawled out, “So the prodigal murderer escapes death.” A slow clap echoed throughout the room, the door pulling itself shut by some computerized means. 10k staggered up, wobbling like a newborn foal as he pulled himself together and looked up at the occupants. 

His Pa had always told him when facing a predator to act confident, like everything was going just fine in your world. Murphy wasn’t a predator in any sense of the word, but he was a scavenger and the same principles should apply. After all, 10k wasn’t so sure he had survived the gunshot wound. In this world a scratch could mean death, he’d hate to think that he could survive a bullet to the intestines when many would have died from a graze. This could be hell, or a really fracked up heaven. 

“Murphy.” He turned, glaring at the blue man and noting the doctors in blood spattered coats standing by him. That infamous slave mark composed of teeth on their cheeks, their eyes slowly loosing that spark of life. Feeling bile rise in his throat 10k spat out, “I suppose this is your doing?” 

“Talkative today I see.” The man nodded to the two men by his side, pointing at a small capsule that resembled a covered plastic boat. Bidden by the unspoken request the two men hurried over, positioning dials and typing away at a key board that was situated just outside of the pod. “I’m glad you could make it, you can see my daring escape.” 

10k narrowed his eyes, frowning as Murphy gave him a wry grin. 

“C’mon kid!” the man slapped the woman on the back, his hand trailing over her shoulder possessively before looking upwards at the flashing alarm light. “All I did was throw a few suggestions around and everything went haywire.” Murphy gestured to the woman beside him, “Merch here tried to trick me, like I knew she would so I’m going to take her ride home away.” 

10k felt his heart stutter, his face paling as it occurred to him what this meant. 

“Look kid it’s been great and all but there’s only room for us, and you,” Murphy chuckled humorlessly, “You’re expendable.” Murphy turned on his heel, guiding his companions into the pod before casting a longer look at 10k. “No hard feelings, ‘kiddo’.” 

10k felt his legs wobble, felt the despair rising up. He’d survived hordes of Z’s with nothing but a slingshot and some rocks. He’d escaped Black Summer and only lost about fifteen pounds. He’d come all the way to California…. 

His feet carried him across the metal floor to the pod’s closed door. His head swimming as he thought through the possibilities, anger blossoming as he recalled Murphy’s grin. Stay inside and drown, or explode if those alarms were anything to go by. Go outside and make a break for the surface and possibly die of drowning or the bends. 

Both were not ideal, but if Murphy thought he was going to take the easy way out he had another thing coming. 

Taking a deep breath he closed his eyes, feeling the seam of the door and raising his scalpel upwards along it. Pa had always made sure he knew how to get out of an enclosed space. Trunks, elevators, vaults, grocery stores, anything with a door he was taught to pry open. The scalpel scraped against the metal until it met the start of the seam, it slipped in easily, going in halfway before stopping and bending with the weight. 

One chance, one time to do this. 10K eased his weight onto the end of it, making each breath count as he prepared for the rush of water. 

‘Tommy,’ Pa had always been strict when he’d said his name, ‘This door I salvaged off an airplane, do you remember what I was telling you about my time in the service?’ 

10k had given a small smile, eager to please. ‘You only survived because you knew how to pry open the door?’ 

Pa had smiled, handing 10k the small swiss knife and nodding, ‘Yup. Thatta boy.’

And really how different could a sub be? He felt the door start to give, a small trickle of water easing through and had only a moment to gather his last breath. Assuming he wasn’t too far from the surface and assuming he’d have the strength to make it to the surface there was no guarantee he’d survive the trip to shore. The door creeped open another inch and a stray thought hit him. 

‘I never apologized to mom for breaking all her butter knives while practicing.’

And then, the sensors giving way to the pressure of the scalpel and the failing electric, the water hit him like a geyser. 

He was flung back about a foot before his hand flung out and caught the porthole frame, forcing himself out he felt his sides scrape against the frame before the geyser quit beating on him and instead he was floating. Kicking desperately and ignoring the pain radiating from his lungs and belly he fought to get to the surface, dared not open his eyes to face the inevitable. 

Sometimes you were the bug and sometimes you were the windshield. And at the rate his day had been going he was lucky to be the bug. 

He gave another desperate kick, feeling his eyes start to bulge and his lungs contract for air. He had almost given up when his fingertips met the cool breeze above the water. His head followed soon after and almost instinctually he breached the surface and lay on his back, floating on the currents while he struggled to recover. 

He’d actually made it. 

But the water hurt like a sonofabitch. 

It was like it was pouring into every pore, abrading his incision and corroding the stitches. His eyes flew open and he struggled to stay afloat as a scream blossomed in his throat. His limbs flailed as he struggled towards shore. Shore meant safety, it meant regrouping. 

He pushed himself to fumble through the currents, feeling farther away from shore than ever. Fuck Murphy. Fuck him and his narcissism. The water rumbled underneath him before sweeping him under and flinging him towards the shore. 10k felt himself scramble, trying to gain any semblance of control before he drowned, when he hit a rock. 

One rock turned into two, two turned into three. Soon he felt the sand slide against his belly, mixing with the fiery water to create a nonstop burn that left him breathless. The waves had abandoned him on the beach, leaving him to writhe in agony as he fought to recover enough to move. 

Stretching out pulled on the stitches, rolling back and forth seemed to push the residual sand deeper, sitting up seemed out of the question as the wound was sapping any energy and tolerance for pain he had. The only other option he had was to curl up and hope that he’d recovered before the next tide came in or the Z’s found him. 

Shaking uncontrollably he flung himself desperately to the side, pulling himself into a ball and groaning as the ends of the wound met, quelling the fire blossoming within him. 

‘If a fire doesn’t have oxygen it’ll die.’ That would hold true for this. At least if it died he’d be able to think clearly, rationally. He opened his eyes and eyed his palm, feeling the coolness in his palm scratching at his fingertips. Uncurling his fingers he felt a small, almost hysterical laugh break free. 

Sometimes you were the bug, others you were the windshield. 

And somedays you were the driver. The scalpel in his hands proved that.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably should clarify: 'are thoughts'
> 
> Also I am a horrible procrastinator as I said it would be updated on Sunday's but here I am 20 minuets from Tuesday............ oh well forgive the lack of editing at least I got it up and out.

If Warren was sure of one thing it was that Murphy was heading north, towards the shore further up. The boat was aimed in that general direction and where else would Murphy go? If there was another thing Warren was sure of it was that the sub was lost in a watery grave. She paused for a moment, raising a hand to her head and frowning. They’d come so far, lost so much. Loosing Murphy now was not an option. Not when the good Doctors were with him, not when everything had just been falling into place. 

“Okay folks,” she murmured, casting a worried look at Addy, “We gotta move. There’s a chance Murphy will hit that beach before we will and we need to be on his toes.” She glanced at Escorpion, feeling the years of distrust brewing in her. 

“Okay,” Addy stepped away from Doc, tugging slightly on his sleeve and smiling in support, “C’mon.” 

“No.” he murmured, shaking his head, “No, we gotta look for the kid.” 

“Doc,” Warren warned, taking a step forward to stand in front of him, blocking the chaotic waters from his view, “Not now.” 

His eyes met hers, his face narrowing into cold lines. “We can’t leave him Warren, not like this.” 

She hesitated, debating as to whether any shred of herself still held compassion in this world. “Doc, Murphy is priority.” She murmured, deciding on logic rather than gentleness. “10k can do just fine on his own, if he made it out.” 

“We can’t just leave him!” Doc shook his head, glancing over her to the small trails of smoke issuing from the ocean surface. “He was hurt he-“ 

“It’s possible he didn’t make it out.” Warren breathed, “And if he did he’s a smart kid, he’ll find us.” She nodded, affirming her own words, “Murphy is the mission. 10k knew that. Don’t let all he did for us go to waste.” Warren breathed, watching as the man’s tired eyes grew heavier until they focused on the ground instead of the sky. 

“Then go,” Doc murmured, “I can’t leave until I….” he hesitated, licking his lips, “I have to know, at least give him a shot.” 

Warren nodded, “We’ll go up the beach about four, five miles. We’ll get Murphy and come back this way.” She grasped his arm, waiting until he looked at her, “We’ll come back through. If he’s here, great, if not….” She glanced at Addy and the rest before looking back at Doc, “You’ll have to decide what to do next.” 

Doc nodded, moving away from her to stand closer to the edge, his gaze staying locked on the stilling water. 

“C’mon people.” She maneuvered back to the car, feeling a bone aching weariness that she could only attribute to a life of hard choices. Putting a hand on the passenger door she paused, waiting as everyone else climbed in before giving Doc a final look. The man cared too much. He always had, and one day it would be the death of him. Slowly she climbed in; refusing to meet Escorpion’s questioning look and instead muttering, “Drive.” 

He gave her a small look before throwing the car into drive, pulling away and navigating through the dubious ‘road’. Trees and biological debris littered their path, slowly shrouding her view of Doc’s hunched back. 

“You did the right thing.” He broke the silence, deciding that anything was better than leaving Warren to stew. “You’re giving them both a chance, but,” he hesitated, searching for a way to censor his words so that he wouldn’t be a target just yet, “Do you really intend to come back for them?” 

He didn’t miss the glare that Addy sent him, didn’t miss the way she set her mouth in a frown and narrowed her eyes like a cat stalking its prey does. Then again he didn’t really give a shit. Years of being a top dog in the Zeros had taught him courage against predators. La Reina had been insistent that all members learn to not be intimidated. It was a dog eat dog world and Warren knew that better than anybody. 

Warren shook her head, looking down at her lap as she did so. “We’ll have to see what’s going on with Murphy.” She ignored the snort that Addy gave, “If everything goes smoothly then, yes. If we get into a bind….” She cast a side look at Addy and sighed, “Then there may not be time to. The world takes priority, they both knew that.” 

Addy didn’t miss the past tense. She wasn’t naïve anymore. Anytime you were separated was a huge risk. There were no guarantees anymore. 10k might as well have been dead the minuet he left for the sub, Doc was sealing his fate by having that attachment. 

**

His lungs must’ve decided to vomit up any remaining water that was in them. That’s what it felt like at any rate. The fire had quelled itself after a few moments of utter stillness, and except for the exhaustion wracking him and the burning in his lungs he felt pretty okay. 

As okay as he could be after being shot. 

He felt foggy too but that was not an issue. It was a thin fog, his mind still capable of thinking. 

‘Two times two equals four, times six equals twenty four.’ He worked through timetables, trying to keep his eyes open long enough to get up and limp away to a safer location. He felt his lungs stop trying to vomit, felt the burning recede the smallest amount and decided that that was as good as it would get. 

Pushing himself up he grunted as his limbs trembled. He’d seen a few fawns, wet newborns with gangly legs, get up with less effort than himself. Huffing out an annoyed breath he shoved himself up, staggering backwards and forwards in search of balance. At least he was up, scalpel still in hand and guts still safely tucked away behind the row of doubled up stitches. Waiting for his legs to cease their trembling he carefully inched a curious hand down to the incision, noting that for a good few inches the skin was red and irritated raw. 

The hole had been fairly large, but the incision seemed to stretch farther than was necessary. About two finger lengths on either side of the ragged tear and god knew how deep. 10k traced a careful finger around it, wincing as his fingers ignited the nerves and sent a burning pain through him. The stitches doubled up around the hole, thick black knots that drew the skin taunt and puckered up. Would they fall out or would he have to pull them out? What if one popped? What if he had to make a decision to take them out or let them fester, knowing by the time he saw the signs of infection it would be too late.

‘When should I take them out?’ His Pa had never gotten to that lecture. The only time he had gotten stitches he had been six years old and busted he leg open on a rock. And now, well, the memory had faded to the point where he was no longer sure what had come of it. 

Taking a breath and looking around he opened his mouth to speak, wincing as his throat constricted painfully. 

“Doc!” he rasped, unable to manage more than a hoarse call. Not even enough to signal a dog. “Warren!” he swallowed dryly, coughing as it irritated the tissues, “Addy!” he took a fumbling step, his breathing ragged as it occurred to him that he had no way of contacting them. No way to stop someone if they saw him and assumed him a Z. He’d add to someone else’s count, be someone else’s number. 

Taking a few more shuffling steps he slowly made his way past the sand and reached the soft grasses, looking up forlornly at the rocky outcropping. The grassy slope was the long way around, but there was no way he’d be able to climb in his current condition. Glancing around the trees he took another step, gaining momentum as he lurched forward. He’d make it to the top and rest, hopefully there wouldn’t be any Z’s around for a few miles, though with the racket that had gone on he was doubtful. Fingers closing around the scalpel in hand he gripped it tighter, breathing in calmly as he steeled himself for any combat. 

This was no different than Before. 

**

There was something in the clearing. Something fairly large that lurched with each step and smelled rotten. 

“Oh jeeze,” Doc murmured, grimacing as he grasped the machete and watched the Z stagger forth rabidly. It was small, probably an adolescent boy by the looks of the height and protruding bones. Both arms were broken and disjointed, flesh peeling off of them and dripping onto the ground. He was probably sixteen or seventeen, maybe a little older, definitely around the kid’s age. He had the similar lanky frame, the mop of dark hair. Doc frowned, trying to clear his thoughts of the kid being a zombie. 10k was alive, he was a survivor. 

“I-“ he cleared his throat, raising his hand and waiting as the broken arms outstretched, snarls accompanying them, “I give you mercy.” He placed an arm out, grabbing him around the neck and bringing the blade down to nestle in the center of his skull. 

The Z pitched forward, the rotten mouth that smelled of meat open and lax. The limbs lay useless and the groan turned into a soft, final hiss of air that brushed gently across Doc’s forearm. He paused for a moment, breathing in and out and supporting its weight. Taking a final breath Doc shoved the Z off of him, shaking his head as he turned back to watch the ocean. 

“Kid!” he shouted, ignoring the strain it put on his voice, “Kid!” he scanned the ocean desperately, eyeing the visible parts of the shoreline he could, “10k!” he stepped back, swallowing bitterly as there was no answer. He cast a glance back at the Z, eyes scanning over the mop of dark hair and carefully trying to see if the Z was in fact 10k…..  
Doc felt himself shudder, trying to scan the ocean with his bare eyes in hopes that he’d see the kid. Anything, any little sign that he wasn’t waiting on a dead man. He ran a hand threw his hair, licking his lips as he heard shuffling footsteps coming closer. The least he could do was give mercy…… he felt his heart sink as he realized this might be it. Just another life snuffed out by the apocalypse.  
**

‘If Pa could see me now he’d give me a beating.’ 10k berated himself, throwing his shoulders to the side as the decaying fingers grabbed at him. He’d been climbing up the steeper part of the hill, lost in his mind trying to repress the urge to stop and sleep for years, when something had grabbed him and pushed him down. 

Taking a breath he lurched forward, managing two steps at a run before haphazardly thrashing his way forward. The Z was not far behind, its fingers literally grasping at his heels, he could feel the rotten breath rake against his calves, hear the staggering feet stumble and bump into his weary ones. He could almost picture the face it would make when the jaws would close around his throat. 

10k heaved in a breath, flailing his legs outwards at a faster pace as he sought to scramble over the remainder of the hill. Arms flung out and caught at trees and branches, desperate to regain some sense of composure whilst running for his life. He had only run like this once before, when the Z’s first appeared and he had had no idea what to do other than run like a maniac. 

He should be smarter than this, should be able to turn around and use his scalpel, and thrust it in between the eyes. 

‘If I make it over the hill the others will be there!’ he motivated himself, grimacing as he put a hand to his wound in attempt to make the slowly growing burn fade away. ‘They’ll be there and they’ll help. You’re not alone anymore! It’s not just me versus the world. They’ll help me!’ 

10k felt the ground grow softer as he sped up to a pace that he wasn’t sure he had ever had before, let alone been able to make with an injury. His legs struck out like a galloping horse, his lungs expanded and felt ready to burst, his hair clouded his vision as the sweat weighed it down. He had just cleared the top of the crest when he felt fingernails rake his ankles, clutching just enough to trip him and cause him to tumble to the ground, dragging the Z on top of him as his eyes grew blurry with grey spots. 

He heaved in and out, each breath threatening to explode his chest. This was it…. The Z was clambering up his legs, its mouth preoccupied with spitting out teeth and realigning its jaw. An acrid gust of breath flew past him, the half-there tongue poking almost curiously at its cheeks in search for its jaw, slurping viciously with each pass it made. 

‘Musta kicked it on the way down….’ 10k felt his brain go giddy at the thought that he had actually managed to hurt the thing, ‘Don’t let the others see it…. Don’t let them have to shoot me.’ A tooth landed by his head, the soulless eyes coming to stare into his, the maw opening as he twitched helplessly, out of options. His hand was pinned beneath its throat, fingers tingling and reminding him that the only thing preventing the Z from ripping his throat out was the arm that had caught it and kept it four inches off of him. 

His fingers curled around the scalpel, the cool metal bringing back that spark of life that had always been present in him. He was not trapped; he was not snared like a rabbit. Swallowing back the bile brewing in his stomach 10k grasped the handle, drawing his arm up and back with as much force as he could, throwing his upper body into the thrust. The silver scalpel missed the eye, embedding in the skull uselessly. He could feel the scrape of bone on metal through the thin handle, a reminder that he had wasted his one shot. Pa would’ve beat him for just acting instead of thinking. ‘Pa never liked it when I just reacted instead of assessed the situation….’ He felt the blunt end of the scalpel rest on his cheek, his arms losing the battle to keep the Z off of him. 

He closed his eyes, feeling himself drift off in his own version of mercy. ‘Don’t let them have to shoot me like I did Pa…. Don’t let them see me become something….. not me.’

Something warm flitted across his face, lingering warmly and wetly. He felt his body twitch in response, felt his nose scrunch as the scent of blood, rotten and feral, hit him. It smelled like Z blood. He cracked his eyes open, scanning the area numerous times before noticing that the body wasn’t laying on him. It was as if it had evaporated, a looming figure standing over him and spouting off words that weren’t words. 

“…. Kid!” he stared up at the figure, cringing as the sunlight caught his eyes. “Kid, thank God!” he barely registered it when the hands reached down and grasped his shoulder, easing him up into a sitting position. 

“What?” he mumbled, spitting out the congealing blood in his mouth, trying to grasp what was happening and ignore the slight burning in his abdomen. 

“It’s me Kid!” a chuckle that reminded him of Doc…. 

“Doc?” he croaked, feeling disbelief hit him. “What are…?” he shook his head, “Warren? Addy?” he licked his lips, anything to drink would be a blessing, even some of the moonshine that the two dumbasses had forced into him. He hated how squeaky his voice was, how every time he coughed and rasped out a word Doc frowned. 

Doc’s face fell, his mouth opening and closing as he thought. “They…. Well see……” he sighed, a hand raking through his hand nervously, “They went to go get Murphy.” 

10k fought to keep his face emotionless, he suspected he must’ve failed miserably though because Doc spoke quickly. 

“They’re coming back as soon as they meet him on the shore! Let’s just get you settled and-“ 

10k tuned him out, eyes glazing over as he let his mind go blank. Doc could handle it….. all he wanted was to just stop existing for five minutes, think through all the thoughts that were rolling through his head. Warren had left them behind, in this world it was to be expected. He felt the world go darker before he saw the blackness, he couldn’t hear Doc anymore, just the constant twitter of songbirds in the afternoon sun and his brain repeating a mantra, ‘Here we go again.’


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Totally late but oh well. I do want to say in advance, while things may seem out of character to an extreme I have my reasons. To explain now would be somewhat of a spoiler so I'll explain later.

Warren felt her blood boil as she saw Murphy pull the boat onshore. Out of all the shit he’d pulled this had to be one of the stupidest, craziest, and irresponsible schemes. 

“Murphy!” she yelled, rushing forward with Addy as he stepped out, turning to offer a hand out to the disembarking Dr. Merch. He looked bluer, his eyes a shade of gold that they hadn’t ever been. His grin was feral, shark like. Warren had seen a shark once; it had flashed its teeth and attempted to charge the aquarium glass, desperately trying to scare off any who tried to look at it. 

The difference here was that there was no glass between Murphy and the world. 

“Murphy!” she shouted, feeling her breath catch in her throat as she lunged down the embankment and skidded on the sand, her feet tripping over themselves as she ran towards him. “Murphy-!” she felt her breath leave her as she fell towards the sand, the weight of a Navy Seal bearing down on her back. 

“Ease up there, Warren.” He chuckled, teeth flashing in warning back up at the others. Warren struggled for moments, thrashing wildly before stilling and wrenching her head upwards to glare at Murphy. 

“You sonofabitch.” She spat, “Dr. Merch you-“ the older woman turned her head, cocked it curiously as she watched Warren with glazed over eyes. Cassandra had had those eyes. The eyes that were alive but also not alive, perpetually staring at nothing, only lighting up when Murphy gave a command. 

The bite mark on her cheek, seeping with small droplets of blood was the dead giveaway. 

“Murphy,” Warren shook her head, breathing in as she lowered her voice, “What have you done now?” 

The man smiled, cracked lips splitting open. “It was all a set up. Everything.” He took a step forwards, placing a hand on the weight on her back and clucking impatiently. Slowly the man eased up, keeping a hand on Warren’s shoulder as she eased up, her eyes never leaving Murphy’s. 

“What?” she breathed, looking from Merch to all the soldiers, cataloging the bite marks and their eyes. Merch’s eyes were a murky brown, dulled by the mark of Murphy; the soldiers were bright. Pinpricks of light that seemed uninhibited by Murphy’s control. “Murphy?” she murmured, sitting up as much as her captor would allow her. 

“It. Was. A . Set. Up.” Murphy gave a shrug, clucking his tongue, “There is no haven from this Warren. They just want to make a quick buck.” He snorted, pointing wildly at Merch, “She just wanted to dissect her monster.” 

Warren felt herself cringe as the impact of what he’d said hit her, “So the CDC, all of it, is gone?” 

“Yup.” He popped the ‘p’, looking at her and shaking his head. “They’re all boarded up with the bigwigs on some magical mystical island that doesn’t exist.” He debated about telling her what he’d learned about Zona, but that would start a whole new shenanigan to get him there. And that was not okay. He was tired of being their lap dog, tire of being the one who always got told what to do. 

“Murphey!” he looked up at that, watching Addie shrug off a not-Z. “Murphey what about 10k?” she blinked. So oblivious to the fact that he didn’t give a rats ass. 

He shrugged, “I suppose he didn’t make it. I barely had time to get these guys out.” He noted how she counted them mentally, her eyes darting back and forth between the five men plus Merch. 

“So he’s gone?” she mumbled, looking at him dully. “Positively dead?” 

“We all go sometime.” He decided to be truthful in that moment, with that sentence at least. “You gonna cry?” he snapped his fingers and the not-Z soldier handed her a piece of his tattered uniform. 

She glared at him, her eyes steeling themselves as she hardened her voice, “No. Dead is dead.” 

He smirked at her, an unsettling grimace that made her cringe. He gestured up to Addie, voice turning mocking, “How about you missy?” 

Addie looked at him with a grimace, her eyes flashing dangerously as she swallowed harshly, “Go fuck yourself Murphy.” She turned away, looking back into the tree line as if 10k would come hobbling out. 

“So what do we do from here?” Murphy’s voice came out bored, his servants disinterestedly hobbling about the group, casting sidelong looks at him and then the living humans. 

“Well the CDC’s out, the good Doc is too,” Escorpion shrugged, his gaze never leaving Murphy, “I don’t think you brought her and them all the way out here to do experiments.” 

Murphy shrugged, smirking at all of them before placing an arm almost tenderly around Merch’s shoulders. His blunt nails dug in, his teeth flashed viciously as he stared at her cheek, “The only experiments the good Doctor will be doing will be seeing how useful she can be to me.” 

Addie looked at her piteously. The woman, her eyes feral and filled with compliance, looked like a meal before Murphy. Her hands were lax, her expression emotionless as he coiled himself around her like a snake. Her cheek glistened with small droplets of blood as her jaw opened slightly and a soft, unheard puff of air escaped her lungs. 

“Cassandra looked more alive and alert than she does. Hell, the others look more alert than she does.” Addie remarked sardonically, crossing her arms as Murphy barked out a laugh. 

“Cassandra was unique,” Murphy swept his gaze over all of the soldiers, “There will never be another one like her. Dear old Doctor Merch here is not a fighter,” he traced a finger over her throat, “She’s a lamb, just does what she’s told and never argues, never has before.” He met Addie’s eyes and somberly continued, “The others….. well….. I found them. Poor little things were merely being used.” 

“Imagine that.” Addie scoffed, looking at him incredulously. 

“You didn’t turn them?” Warren moved back, examining the soldier closest to her and noting the pinpricks of light held in their eyes. Almost as if they had a secret contained in them. They were the eyes of men who had seen war, yet not seen war. 

“Contrary to popular belief I do not go around biting humans, disgusting things they are, I’d probably get diseases.” Murphy pushed Merch forward, making his way to the van. “These guys were on the boat, I just got them to follow me.” 

Warren took another long look, slowly stepping away from them and gesturing for Addie to do the same. “Murphy, if you didn’t turn them then why are they like this?” 

“Who knows,” Murphy called, pushing Merch into the van and climbing in himself, “All I can tell you is that they’ll make good watch dogs. Sonsofbitches don’t ever blink. Now are you all gonna stand there and admire the good doctor’s mistake, or are you all going to drive this damn van away from California?” 

**

Sunlight bore down on 10k, warming his face and casting an annoying amount of light onto his closed eyelids. His mouth felt dry, his abdomen throbbed dully, and his limbs felt hot. But, he had a pulse and could remember two plus two equals four so he considered not being a Z a good thing.   
‘I am alive, and alive is what matters.’ He thought, wiggling his fingers and toes to get his blood flowing again. 

“Kid?” a soft, fatherly voice broke through his musings. “You okay?” 

10K shook his head, licking his lips and cracking his eyes open as much as he dared. The world burned into his eyes, forcing him to shut them with a groan. Everything was so bright, so distorted and migrane inducing. 

“I hate to force you to move kid, but we gotta get to where they can see us.” Doc tugged gently at 10k’s arm, prodding him repetitively until the young man moved slightly. “You wanna regroup with Warren and them, right?” he waited for 10k to nod and grunt, “They’re coming back this way for us, you just gotta get up, okay?” another small grunt and 10k flopped uselessly over onto his side. 

“Doc?” he mumbled, his mouth feeling just as clumsy as his limbs, “I….. I can’t…… How did…… Where……Go…..?” he growled at his inability to think, his thoughts were a jumbled mess, jumping around and careening off into different tangents that he couldn’t voice aloud. His body ached, he was so tired, wanting nothing more than to drift away. 

Doc reached down, placing the back of his hand on the kid’s forehead and cursing as heat blossomed forth. “Shit,” he murmured, “Shit, shit, shit.” He ran a hand through his hair and felt his own forehead. The kid had to be running a high grade fever, maybe high enough to burn his brain up quicker than any drug. He glanced around; a hand running to check how much water was left in his canteen. Feeling his heart speed up at the thought of losing 10k, of having to pike him. 

The slight sloshing of water gave him hope. He’d just have to reduce this fever until Warren and the others came back, then they could run for medicine or bed down for a few days. 

‘Unless it’s easier for them to leave you where you’re at.’ A traitorous voice echoed in his head. ‘The mission takes priority, you know that.’ He shook his head, trying to chase those thoughts away and feeling ashamed that he’d thought that. They’d been through a lot together, and that made them a family. 

10k tossed his head back as Doc laid a wet piece of cloth over his forehead, mindful of the small scrapes that adorned the boy. As the water dripped onto the ground, 10k tossed his head restlessly, brain overloading itself in an attempt to rid itself of fever. Groaning as his head cooled slowly 10k looked up, watching Doc’s worried expression and nodding. 

“Bad,” he croaked, coughing at the bitter taste brewing in his throat. “Bad, no good.” 

“Nah,” Doc chuckled grimly, “You’ll be fine, Warren’s gonna come by and-“ 

“Cassandra….” 10k slurred, his tongue feeling heavy, “Cassandra felt ….. this…. Hot.” He felt his stomach flip at the memory of hold her. Her body frail and too hot. Dying slowly, miserably. 

Doc started, unsure of how to console him. The kid was right, it was bad. He looked around, hoping desperately that the others would come out from between the trees and help them. 

“Okay,” he breathed, poking the kid in his side none to gently, “Kid you gotta get up, we need to move, get to the road.” 

10k nodded again, not quite sure why they had to get to a road. “k…” he tried to move, willing his body to sit up. Exhaustion lapped at his muscles, his stiches blanketing him in a wave of agony. The more he tried the less his body seemed willing to comply. He felt Doc’s hands wrap around his shoulders, the prodding increasing until he was half crouching and half laying over the man’s hands. He felt his legs shake, the mere thought of taking a step causing him to wince. 

“Okay,” Doc cheered, his voice becoming its usual positive tone. “We’re up, now just take it slow, we just gotta make it to the road.” 

10k lifted his foot, groaning as the muscles tensed and giving in to a small exhausted whimper as his body shook. It was going to be a long journey, he could feel it. 

**

The one thing Warren could say about Murphy’s guard dogs was that they didn’t take up much room. After begrudgingly finding out that they were going back for Doc and (hopefully) 10k, he’d instructed one to sit on the others lap, Merch to sit on the floor, and another one to sit on top of Merch. They’d been unnaturally willing, only offering a few feral growls at each other before settling down. 

“So what if they’re not there?” Murphy quipped, eyeing Escorpion and Warren. 

“We move on,” Warren murmured, careful to keep her tone neutral. “That’s all we can do.” She glanced back at Addie, noting how the girl had a knife positioned towards the soldiers, her eyes staring past Murphy and into the soldiers bright lighted pupils. 

Murphy grunted, glaring at Addie, “They won’t hurt you sweetheart,” he sniffed, “Not yet anyway.” He turned back, eyeing the back windshield, “Though, those, those will kill you undead.” 

Addie turned, watching out the window as they van peeled away. In the distance were forms, hobbling along at a fast pace than what Z’s normally did. “Oh my god,” she breathed. “Warren!” she barked, tearing her gaze back to the front, “We’ve got a problem!” 

Warren watched out the back, blinking as what she was seeing registered in her mind. “What is it Murphy?” She called, trying to discern what exactly she was looking at. “Is it another Migration?” 

Murphy chuckled, his eyes lighting up as he looked at the bright eyed soldiers. “That, is their family. Poor bastards must have survived the Sub.” 

**

The Z had snuck up on them. It was just one, nothing to worry about. Doc had waited to leave 10k until the kid was steady on his feet, wavering but upright. Doc grasped the handle of his knife, getting a hold of himself and trying to ignore the fact that the Z in front of him had been someone’s daughter. Her face slowly rotting away, her once blonde hair now covered in mud and leaves. Doc raised his knife to eye level, waiting for her to step within range as he murmured, “I give you mercy.” She stepped into his line, her arms brushing past his face in a deadly embrace, he had just raised the knife to strike when it happened. 

10k screamed. 

Whirling around Doc realized his mistake seconds later. The Z pushed him to the ground, limbs flailing around as it attempted to lower its head onto Doc’s neck. He writhed, wriggling a few inches of his hand free enough to push at her, slap her away and hope that 10k was aware enough to beat his own Z off for a few moments. The kid hadn’t looked good, his eyes glazed over and his movements uncoordinated and jerky. 

Doc rolled over, pushing himself up off the ground desperately as he reached for his knife and lunged at the Z. The blade pierced into her eye easily. He never stopped being amazed at how smooth a knife sliding into a Z was. The jelly of the eye coated the blade, easing the path through the nerves and hitting the brain. The only sign that the brain had been hit sufficiently was the collapse. The Z flung itself forward harmlessly, its lungs issuing a final breath before going still. 

Doc pushed the Z the rest of the way off, grunting as he struggled upwards and cleared the blood from his eyes. He felt the movement before he saw it. A soft rumbling in the ground that gave way to the sound and smell of metal fuming. Looking to the west he saw it: Salvation. The SUV rumbled forth, slowing briefly before resuming it’s speed. 

“It’s them kid!” Doc jumped up, strength renewed as hope brought itself forth. He waved a hand, motioning over to 10k as he began to hobbled over, cursing his age and smiling at the thought of the group being reunited. “They’re here,” he breathed out in time to his steps, “They’re here, we’re all together again!” 

The sound reached its crescendo, and then slowly dissipated. The rumbling ground eased up, the wind gushing past the two ceased and the smell of mechanics dissipated. 

10K felt the blood drain from his face. Doc had said it was them. But, the SUV was leaving. He saw Doc hobbling over, saw the SUV peel away. Maybe it wasn’t them? But there weren’t many people driving these days. 

‘Unless the Z’s have learned to drive….. that’d be kinda cool.’ 

His Z was kicking wildly, its legs seeming to find all of the locations that hurt like a sonofabitch and dug into his weakened stitches. 

“Hey!” he called, almost breathless as the decaying torso flailed on his chest, “Guys!” he tried again, knowing it was futile but trying just the same, coughing as the scent of rotten copper drifted into his mouth. There was no way he could push the Z off, not in this state. His mind was foggy, his movements as slow as the Z’s. His stitches were pulling at him, tugging loose at a pace that made him fear for his intestines. Anything popping out now would be paramount to death. Z’s for miles would smell the blood and flock on him. At least it would give Doc time to escape…. Time to hobble the other way…. 

10k felt the weight bear down even more, arms digging into his forearms as teeth clicked viciously together. He closed his eyes, tired beyond anything else and breathed out, giving a small not smile as the breath tousled the Z’s thin gray hair. 

“Kid!” The shout came before the branch flew into the Z’s head, bursting it like a watermelon. 10k barely had time to think, his face suddenly covered with blood and soil, his eyes shut and his mouth desperately working anything possibly carrying the infection out of his mouth. It tasted dull, dull and like old tea leaves. 

‘Mom liked tea, she always drink it every day until the Apocalypse happened,” he thought idly. 

“Kid?!” the voice was frantic, fingers pressing on his pulse point in his neck, another hand laying across his forehead and wiping everything around as if to clean it. 10k opened his eyes, blinking hazily as the light filtered down. He looked down at his body, mentally cataloging any possible points of infections. 

“Oh,” he breathed out, looking up at Doc before looking back down and curling his fingers, “arms…” his fingers curled around the severed limbs of the Z. Graying flesh tearing under his weak grasp, a slight sticky feeling that made him recoil inwardly. Doc barked out a laugh, seemingly unaffected by their predicament. 

“Yeah kid, arms….” He sat on the ground, puling the arms off and throwing them to the side, legs propped up to catapult upwards should anything approach. His face darkened, waiting as 10k breathed out a final harsh breath before easing up slowly, mindful of his stitches. “So the van…” 

10k barely cast him a glance, already knowing what he was about to say, but not wanting to hear it. “Maybe it wasn’t them,” he offered. 

“I think that was them. It was our van at least.” And just like that he felt like he was back in the ocean. They had left them. They had looked out the windows, seen them struggling and fucking left. They had left him and Doc way back on the river banks, had sent him off to god knows where with people who they had never fucking met, they had only ever gone back for Murphy…. They had left Cassandra….. 

“Kid?” Doc leaned forward, a warm arm gently wrapping around his. 10k looked at him, blinking as he fought the fever haze. “We’ll make it.” 

And just like that the older man was goading him up again, a constant nagging that made him wonder how much further he could make it.

**Author's Note:**

> As always comments and criticisms are appreciated as I strive to better my writing! I hope you enjoy!


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